Nothing Can Stop The Wheels

I have seen
my own death.

I was there.

I will be back there.

My life suddenly
nothing.

Just
distant sounds.

The screech of tires,
my body
smashing
against unforgiving steel.
my blood spilling
into silence.

I have seen this
with my very own eyes,
in broad daylight.

400 times.

It will be an awful
way to die,
however,
I must accept this.

It is my destiny.

Nothing can stop the wheels.

A Life Long Companion

When I was
a midget,
my uncle played me
a song.

This song
made me want to stick
a fork
in my ear
and the other end, the pointy end,
in an electric socket.

It was that horrendous.

My uncle asked me
to guess
what the lyrics were.

I gave in
and listened.

There was no fork in sight.

I replied,
"I wanna die."

He fell over,
hysterical.

Those obviously weren't
the lyrics,
but this memory,
this dip into the past,
made me realize
I have always been
fascinated by death.

The end,
I'm convinced,
has been on my mind
since
I was in the womb.

It's permanently
a part of my genetic code
and there has never been
a desire
to let this fascination
go.

My Words Will Eat Your Soul

My words
are yours.

They are for your
greedy little eyes
to devour.

Do with them
what you will.

Make them
inspire you,
make them
repulse you,
make them
wish you had no eyes.

Doesn't matter to me,
never will,
just as long as you
read them.

Capture a glimpse
into this weird soul.

Let me sink
into your heart,
int your subconcious,
and let my words
eat away
as that happy little voice
inside you
until there is
nothing left.

Always Listen to Your Mother

The box
stood before me.

Small and uninviting.

It was the only one
in the world.

It housed
thousands of zombies,
minature ones,
no taller than cats.

They even reproduced.

Outside,
it stood,
in my backyard,
at night and throughout the day
I could hear the sounds
of their repulsive
love making.

They never stopped fucking.

Thousands more
were born each day.

The box
was breaking,
cracks began to form,
hungry eyes began to show.

So,
we had to
expand
the box.

My mother demanded
I
do it.

No bother,
it was my reality,
I accepted it,
just like any child
accepts their parents
and their demands,
and therefore I accepted
the box
and my duty
without question.

I would tend to the zombies,
as I built their newly expanded home,
I'd feed them
pig brains
or whatever else was available,
anything to stop
their hunger,
their pain.

Over the next couple days,
their new home was coming together,
the other
being chewed away.

On the last day,
I was finished,
relief set in
briefly.

Until,
a piece of flesh
was torn off my leg,
I felt nothing but pain
and teeth.

They were out.

I tried to escape,
but as soon as I tried the door,
it was locked.

Mother was outside.

I was trapped.

"Let them
destroy you baby,
before the world destroys
you.
It's much easier this way,
trust me."

These were
the last words
I ever heard.

The zombies
came at me,
devouring my feet,
my hands, my stomach,
my brain.

I watched them eat away.

I did not put up
a fight.

I knew I was the sacrifice.

They could only eat pig brains for so long,
and I had to stop
their hunger,
their pain.

Hell,
we all have to die
sometime,
I didn't mind,
and mother always knows best,
she knows me too well.

I always wanted to be the hero.

This was the only chance
to die
with a smile on my face.

Thank you mother,
I don't know how I would have died
without you.

To My Muse

My life
is dedicated
to you.

From the moment
I was pulled out of your stomach,
I knew
I was in the hands
of a goddess,
so gracious, elegant, beautiful,
so self-sacrificing.

What I didn't know
was how much love
she would give me
throughout my life
and how she would guide me
through the cruelties
and the tragedies
of the world
and teach me
how to deal with them
all on my own.

She gave me complete freedom.

As a boy,
I could roam
anywhere,
even shit on the lawn
and beat up small children.

Of course,
I was in trouble,
daily,
but my punishment
was just and deserving
and she never demanded much
in return
for her boundless understanding.

She was the perfect mother.

Other men
came and went,
taking advantage of her devotion,
but she would still
give her all
to those who came
next
and she never
put her children
last.

Not much
could break
her strong spirit.

She was my super hero.

She continues
to inspire me
everyday
and I vow
for the rest of my life
to show her
the same devotion
and love
she has always shown me.

I will give her my all.

I will make you proud, Mo,
I promise.

A Chance for Forgiveness

How do you
react?

The person
who just killed
your only brother
walks in
through your door.

He's in front of you,
crying,
forever cursed
by a moment
no one could prevent.

A thought of
VENGEANCE
strikes the mind
and is somehow
forgotten.

There's simply
nothing
anyone can do.

My only reaction
was to
forgive him.

In my heart,
I still do believe
I made the right choice.

There's nothing
I will ever know.

How would you
react?

The Proposal

Work
kills us.

With every second
we waste our lives
there,
the more meaningless
our lives become
elsewhere.

There must be
another way.

The solution:
Why not let us drink?

Yes,
let us be drunk
and merry at our jobs.

It beats being
pissed off
and on the verge on tears.

The advantages:
production value,
customer service approval,
employee approval,
would all skyrocket
whichever corporation
would be willing to do this.

They could hire
top notch drunks,
fully functional alcoholics
to get the job done.

People would be lining up
to get at job there,
especially me.

This is my proposal
to all corporations
and I am willing sign
any sort of insurance papers 
you want me to sign,
just do it
and let us work,
and sit back,
you fat pig,
and watch your filthy money grow.

Some Prefer a Tornado

We could hear

the sound of death

coming toward us,

coming 

to tear the world 

apart.

Beneath our feet

the ground 

threatened to open

and swallow our souls.

We held on 

for dear life.

The walls 

moved

unnaturally

and shook our portraits,

our sanity,

down,

the floor

was an ocean,

moving in waves.

We were drowning in fear.

It went on

and on,

and I thought,

we might have to 

live like this

forever.

Then,

silence crept up,

time froze,

the earth was still.

No one died,

no one had a scratch,

we even 

cracked a smile,

and began to put the portraits 

back up.

Our house was saved.

Some are not so fortunate.

Some are burned alive,

some have their skin ripped off by the wind,

some drown with their children,

some freeze and remain frozen in hell.

We have the grip of death

shaking our homes,

destroying our precious valuables,

but it's ok,

materials mean 

nothing

to us

here in sunny California.

We prefer it.

Stick Around A Bit, Will Ya?

She jammed a large
potato peeler
right into her jaw
and worked it up
higher and higher,
trying to reach her brain.

The blood,
he said,
the blood,
pure red 
and terrifying.

His dream was about
resurrection.

He was a dolphin
and something or someone
was showing him
exactly what would happen 
to his mother,
to his family,
if he pursued 
his dream
too quickly.

Hopefully 
he recognizes this
and realizes that
the torment he faces 
almost everyday
is nothing
compared 
to what we will feel
when he is gone. 

Interviews From Bedlam

       Have you ever seen human skulls growing out of your skin? Do they talk to you and tell you to eat the entrails of adolescent boys? No? We all know you're lying to yourself. Soon, you'll end up in an insane asylum. It's ok, there's plenty there to keep your psychotic mind occupied. If boredom does happen to set it, there's always pruno or sodomy or scrabble. There's also plenty of civil servants to talk to, which is what I did over some of my own pruno on the coldest of spring nights. 

Let's call this civil servant, "Frida." She works for an infamous mental institution, located right in our own backyard. She's worked there for a "good 20 years," as she put it. Don't be fooled by her short brown stature, this single mother of two, is as tough as kevlar and as brave as they come and she can handle the absolute worst. However, Frida hasn't always been such a bad ass. The first month she worked there, she had nightmares every night. With good reason too, she's been hurt on multiple occasions, but this "comes with the territory." She's prepared for almost anything these crazies are capable of. She's just thankful to have a career to support her family. That's more than most can say in these bleak times. One thing she is terrifyied of is being "gassed." Her definition is, "when a patient puts their own feces or urine in a cup and throws it at you." What a pleasant ice breaker.

Another charming aspect of her job is the chance of love. "It's possible," she said over a sip of beer. "Many women have a natural instinct to try and fix men," she continued, "also, they could have trouble at home, either because they're lonely or their husbands neglect them." This can and does happen often. Some have even gotten pregnant. You might not think it could happen to you, but chances are, you'd leave your entire family behind for a schizo stud, who might have killed their own family. I guess love can be found under the most deranged circumstances. 

Frida says the madhouse isn't as morbid as the movies portray it to be. There's hope, although only a glimmer here and there. She's met some unforgettable nut jobs. One's she cares for as much as her own friends. "Mr. Dyke" sticks out in her mind especially. It's true, he's killed his own boss's baby in its crib because he thought it was the devil, but does this mean he's an evil person? The lines will always remain unclear, but she does feel sorry for him. She even said, "he's incredibly nice. You wouldn't think anything was wrong with him if you just saw him walking down the street." Looks are decieving. He's still unimaginably crazy. He talks to a floating gizmo and writes children's stories as well. She's even been in one of his. She's also met a patient who's claimed to figure out the cure for AIDS, but the government doesn't want anything to do with him. Such a shame he had to commit such a heinous crime. Who knows what he could've accomplished outside these padded walls?

Yes, she's seen them come and go. "It's a revolving door," she said somberly. Most will be institutionalized for life. It's a disheartening part of life, but someone has to help these whackos. Who else would be will to do this? I most certainly am not and she doesn't reccommend this job to anybody. "You will hate it," she said. Unless, of course, you want to fall in love with someone who has human skulls growing out of their skin and drinks the blood of teenage boys. If that's the case, then welcome home honey. This cup's for you.

The Million Dollar Question

Am I
good enough
to go to heaven?

I don't know.

I have committed
more sins
than days
I have lived.

I, also,
do not believe
in
christ.

But have I
really
done anything
wrong?

I guess
that's left up to
god
or whoever the fuck else
is controlling
our fate.

Either way,
there's too many other
small tragedies
barreling down upon me,
to worry about
this question,
there's too little time
to even think
about going to church
and asking for
forgiveness.

I'd rather jerk
off,
drink too much,
and
go on living,
committing sins
at my leisure.

Is there anymore questions?

Good.

This interview is over.

Now take you pamplet
and fuck off.

Pariah Twins

We storm
in the place.

Two twisted perverted 
fucks
ready to suck and fuck
your mother
and daughter.

However,
there's usually 
not even a whiff
of a tiny piece 
of pussy
within miles,
so now
we have to fuck
with you 
and your arrogant, goofy ass friends.

99% of the time
we fight,
not because we want to,
because those corny fucks
have no idea
what to do
around us.

We are too much 
for them
to take in.

Their only defense
is to try and
put us in coma.

They have come close to succeeding
on many occasions.

We, however,
wore our scars
with pride.

They, not surprisingly,
were left with a confusion
so profound,
they will eventually
passed it on 
to their grandchildren.

That's what I call
a mindfuck!

To add insult to your tragedy,
we will even 
puke and piss on them
and continue on 
will soiled pants and all
as if nothing has happened.

This is a warning!

We are what you're mothers
have warned you about.

We are the Pariah Twins.

Try 
and forget us.